


Stolen Gifts

by Aoida_blue



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Consort!Thor, Hinted Dub-con, Loki wins, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-14
Updated: 2012-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-29 11:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/319570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoida_blue/pseuds/Aoida_blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor. The name was heavy and powerful, a weapon in war and an ornament in peace. Loki wondered idly whether use would render it down, like a knife to a whetstone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stolen Gifts

“Thor.” Loki pronounced, letting the word roll on his tongue.

 

The word was heavy and powerful, a weapon in war and an ornament in peace. Loki wondered idly whether use would render it down, like a knife to a whetstone.

 

“I sent them away. No one anymore to witness your shame now.” Loki said again, fingers twisting on the runes of his new throne, “No more angry looking Avengers, no more distraught looking mother, and our lovely father is now deep in the frost giants kingdom, an offering to our most hated ally.”

 

Thor’s head was bowed, and one knee bent. His hair fell in rivers of gold, clean and clear of the muck of the battle he’d never seen, hiding his face and barring his tanned neck open to Loki’s gaze.  A gesture of fealty, of acceptance, the glorious golden head seal on the surrender of those formerly know as Asguard and a gift.

 

Loki could not help but delight in the irony of it all.

 

A son for a son. A brother unequal for another. 

 

Thor did not move at Loki’s words.

 

“I hear it is natural, Thor.” Loki continued, letting his voice reverberate around the empty hall, his words drip with mockery, “A consort is usually nervous before his master.”

 

Like the simplest of reactions, salt to heated water, Thor’s shoulders trembled.

 

“Oh no need for nerves.” Loki said, fingers uncurling and stretching on the throne, “I assure you I will be most gentle.”

 

The shuddering grew, expanding down his body, hair swaying. Still Thor did not move.

 

“At least I will be.” Loki drew out the pause, barely resisting the urge to lean in, “To begin with.”

 

Finally, Thor’s head snapped up.

 

Loki’s smile grew and he almost laughed aloud.

 

It was not anger that warped his former brother’s face.

 

No. Rather a second gift to his stolen first, and a last step for his final victory. His final _win_.

 

“Brother.” Thor breathed, almost pleading, “Before this, before any of this, what did I do so wrong to you? I will take this punishment, but I must know-“

 

Loki stared down at him, letting pity wash across his face. In a smooth move he rose, stepping slowly down the dais in calculated timing. No one but the gilded columns of his false forefathers to bare witness to his brother’s final fall, his greatest failing.

 

“What have you done?” Loki asked slowly, taking his first step along the quiet marbled floor, “Everything my brother. _Everything_. But this is not about that.”

 

Thor had positioned himself careful distance from the throne, still respectably close but distant. A strategically sound location for him when he had taken the vow, and now a strategic location for Loki to make his entrance. Like all games they’d played as youths, Thor’s advantage would be Loki’s and was this nothing but a larger game?

 

Upon each word, each step, Thor’s expression eroded, wore down, hope and pride vanishing.

 

And Loki had not yet even told him his due yet.

 

“But this is not a _punishment_ , Thor.” Loki’s words were soft, they didn’t need to be loud, not when his brother’s intense attention was on him and only him, Loki smiled, reaching him and placing a hand upon his brother’s tilted head, “This is _the reason_.”

 

Thor’s eyes sparked with understanding and his mouth turned down as if refuting his own thoughts, denial quick and fast filtering through his expression, amassing in the slight compulsive shake of his head. Loki’s smile increased and he bent, at the back, a King knelt to no one, and pressed his lips to Thor’s ear.

 

“Yes. Thor.” Loki whispered, word lighter, “All this _blood_ , all this _pain,_ all this _suffering_ for you.”

 

It was a lie. One of many woven and sown but by far the most rewarding.

 

Thor’s eyes burned bright like _pain_ , like the rip of a million stars, and the tear of long held truths revealed as falsehoods. His eyes burned and overflowed, tears heavy and remorseful, _oh_ so remorseful, streaming down his face and slapping onto the floor.

 

_Yes_.

 

Loki straightened, hand brushing from Thor’s head to his sodden check and smiled as the wetness slid over his fingers. Upon the next drop of a tear, Loki let his hands fall away and Thor lurched forward, as if to chase after the touch.

 

How the mighty crumble.

 

“I will summon you tonight.” Loki said, words smooth, easy, and nothing but his brother’s tortured eyes making him smile all the wider.

 

Loki left him with the flippant wave, watching from the corner of his vision as his brother stared after him, horror writ clear in the lines of his face. 

 

His final victory, his greatest prize and Loki laughed low and mocking, letting the noise echo around him as he moved away. He’d _won_.


End file.
